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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28441359">Starlight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchcatewrite/pseuds/watchcatewrite'>watchcatewrite</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Triple Frontier (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Late Night Conversations</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:20:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,289</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28441359</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchcatewrite/pseuds/watchcatewrite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Frankie was a light sleeper.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Reader, Francisco "Catfish" Morales/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Starlight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I just couldn’t get this soft, sad man out of my head.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frankie was a light sleeper. </p><p>You’d realized this soon after you’d started dating, and honestly you shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d offered few details about his time spent in the military, and really you weren’t sure you wanted them, but it was clear that his past weighed heavily on him. He obviously wasn’t used to feeling secure as he slept, even after double and triple checking every lock in the house, and despite your many assurances that it was a safe neighborhood, in a small town, where no one would bother them. Still, you’d spent many nights reaching out for his restless form in the darkness, pulling him tight against your chest until he finally settled with a sigh. </p><p>(In the morning you’d wake with him wrapped around you, ruffled hair resting under your chin, and soft stubble rubbing against your sternum.)</p><p>It had been hot the past few nights, hotter than was comfortable even with the twenty dollar Target fan you’d purchased last summer doing its best to move the stagnant air around your room. Frankie had been especially restless, pulling the sheets up under his chin and kicking them all the way off, in turn. Little seemed to settle him, not even your hands on his warm skin, and it wasn’t long before you were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He tossed and turned, shifting the bed beneath you both, and while you drifted to sleep far easier than him most nights, even you struggled to feel truly rested by the morning. Frankie watched you pour yourself another cup of coffee, your mouth wide in a yawn, and seemed to shrink over his own cup at the kitchen table. </p><p>“I’m sorry. Maybe I should sleep at my place tonight.”</p><p>You trailed a hand up his arm to rest on his shoulder, as you leaned down to press a kiss into the unruly brown curls covering his head. “Don’t you dare.”</p><p>His eyes followed you into the bedroom as you brought the mug to your lips again, smiling over your shoulder at him kindly. When he joined you there only a few minutes later, his old t-shirt that you slept in just barely over your head, it was clear you both still had energy enough for what was important. As Frankie pressed kisses into the soft skin of your neck, you tried not to grow worried at how desperate they seemed. </p><p>- - -</p><p>It was still dark when your eyes blinked open, and you tried to remember what had pulled you from sleep. Movement; there was someone moving around your bedroom. Your hand reached out across the sheets, but when Frankie’s firm arm wasn’t there waiting for your touch you could feel panic begin to rise in your throat. The sounds around you grew louder, until a large shape materialized at your side of the bed, a warm hand brushing softly over your brow. </p><p>“Shh, it’s just me, baby.” Frankie’s voice was deep and rich in the darkness, not quite a whisper but not his usual volume either. “I’m gonna go for a drive.”</p><p>You hummed, shifting under the sheets and pulling your limbs closer to your body before stretching out again. “M’kay. Hold on, let me grab some clothes.”</p><p>You can’t see Frankie’s face in the darkness, but you could hear the confusion in his voice as he spoke. “It’s okay you—“</p><p>You cut him off with a mumble, as your brain fought toward consciousness. “I wanna come.”</p><p>His hand was back on your face, stroking your cheek gently, as your lips lifted in a lazy smile. There was silence for a moment as you shifted once more, trying to throw off the last grips of sleep, and his voice was even quieter when he spoke again. “Okay.”</p><p>It took you only a few minutes to locate your jean shorts where you’d discarded them near the closet. You pulled one of Frankie’s button-ups on one arm at a time, wrapping yourself in the smell of him: warm, musky, with just a hint of spice. Clothed in more items of his than your own, you shuffled out of the bedroom and to the entryway, toeing on your flip flops. Frankie smiled at you gently in the sparse light, leaning down to wrap a large hand around the back of your neck, and pressing a kiss to your temple. The air outside the house was blessedly cool, despite what had been circulating around your bedroom, and you took a deep breath, filling your lungs with it. It helped brush the sleep from your eyes even further. </p><p>Frankie’s truck was waiting for you both in the driveway, an ancient thing that he refused to give up. It had been a point of contention early in your relationship, when you’d been able to see your breath inside its threadbare cab, but your criticisms of it had mellowed with the warmer months, and now you could only see all the things Frankie loved about it. His dad’s old classic rock CDs shoved into the pockets of the doors, the way the heat smelled like pancakes when you first turned it on (something Frankie assured you was not a sign of its impending combustion), or how the once scratchy fabric of the seats had been worn soft with age. It was as much Frankie as the man who climbed into bed with you at night, and you loved it just as desperately. The engine sputtered to life with the turn of Frankie’s key, and you breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Someday it was likely to never do that again, and you dreaded what it would do to the man seated next to you. </p><p>Frankie’s hand reached out for the radio, turning the volume down until you could barely hear the familiar sounds of Creedence Clearwater Revival, before settling over your knee. His thumb moved slowly back and forth, worrying the skin there until it seemed to match up with the rhythm of his breathing. You pulled your other leg up to your chest, resting your foot on the seat and your cheek on your thigh, until you could make out the man seated next to you, bathed in moonlight as he drove. His eyes never left the road, his face lacking expression, and you watched him quietly. There seemed to be no route in mind, no destination planned, and you allowed yourself to relax as the truck wound through your little town. </p><p>The night stretched out around you, dark and thick against your skin. At one point Frankie’s hand left your knee to reach across you, cranking down the window and letting in the cool night air, before reaching for his own window and doing the same, finally coming to rest back on your knee. You were suddenly glad for the shirt you’d pulled on over your night shirt, the breeze through the windows barely biting at your skin where your arms wrapped around your leg. Frankie’s hand was heavy and warm on your knee, the feeling radiating across your skin and through your bones. You couldn’t help the smile that pushed gently at your lips, thinking about the kind man next to you who warmed you not only your body but your soul. The longer you drove the more his shoulders seemed to relax, though you dared not disturb the silence. </p><p>At some point he began to hum quietly with the song still barely audible from the radio, and your smile grew. You rarely got to hear Frankie sing, only when his joy was boundless and he scooped you up in his arms as he danced you across the kitchen, but sometimes, when he didn’t think you were listening, you’d hear him humming from another room. The sound was rich, like melted chocolate on your tongue, and your eyes slipped closed as you listened. You tried to tell him time and again how lovely his voice was, how much you enjoyed hearing him sing, but it seemed too vulnerable a piece of himself, something he shared only sparingly. It made it all the more special when he did, and you filed each note away in your mind, letting them caress your skin gently. </p><p>His hand gave your knee a soft squeeze, and you opened your eyes to look at him. “Falling back asleep? Should we head home?”</p><p>You shook your head slowly, letting the soft skin of your cheek brush against your thigh as your smile widened. “Only if you want to, baby.”</p><p>He seemed to take this as confirmation, of some idea he hadn’t shared, and the next turn the truck made was more decisive. Slowly the town seemed to shrink behind you, trees growing denser around the truck, until Frankie pulled off onto what could hardly be deemed a road, and seemed more like a dirt path. The truck swayed back and forth as it bumped over the uneven earth, and finally you pulled your head from your makeshift pillow. Through the windshield, and illuminated by the headlights, a clearing came into view, and Frankie brought the truck to a gentle stop. His hand left it’s favorite spot on your knee as he reached behind the seats, grabbing the old quilt stowed in the back of the cab. </p><p>He smiled at you gently as you glanced around the clearing, reaching for the handle of his door. “<em>Venga, </em><em>mi vida</em>. I wanna show you something.”</p><p>You shivered at the pet name (or maybe it was the chill in the night air) and followed him out of the truck. At the back of the bed Frankie laid out the quilt, stepping up before reaching a hand down to you. He pulled you up easily, his other hand steady at your hip, before moving you both onto the blanket. When he sunk down to be seated you followed him, the cold metal of the truck’s bed cushioned by the quilt. Frankie laid down on his back, bringing one hand to his chest as he opened his other arm, the invitation clear. You shifted slightly until you could lay down as well, your head coming to rest on his chest as his arm settled around your shoulders. You finally got your first glimpse of the sky, and couldn’t help letting out a gasp. </p><p>The stars spread out above your heads, brighter than you’d ever seen them. Your little town didn’t seem to produce much in the way of light pollution, but clearly it was more than you’d thought. The moon was white and glowing in the right side of your field of vision, and your eyes were drawn to it almost immediately. It was nearly full, a corona just visible around its edges, and you found it strangely comforting, just as you had since you were a child. While others might look at the night sky, at the moon high above the horizon, and feel frightened by their smallness in the universe, you felt peaceful. Your life was so short, so inconsequential to the universe, that nothing could truly ever be as bad as it felt in that moment. </p><p>As if Frankie could hear your inner thoughts he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips brushing your hair with a smile. “I like coming out here. It makes me feel small.”</p><p>“It’s beautiful.” You whispered, your voice cracking with lack of use. His chest rumbled with a chuckle beneath your cheek. </p><p>You lay quietly for a few moments, both of you with your eyes trained to the sky. You wondered what Frankie was thinking, what kept him awake at night, what made him want to feel small, but you didn’t press. You’d realized early in your relationship that Frankie only shared things with you when he was ready, and not a moment before. Smiles were quick, and laughs were easy, but vulnerability was earned. You liked knowing that he trusted you, that he felt safe sharing himself with you. It was always worth the wait. </p><p>“There was this night, when we were coming over the Andes, when the sky opened up like this. It was so quiet up there, quieter than I’d ever experienced. The jungle was loud, but the mountains were silent.”</p><p>His chest rose and fell beneath your cheek, quiet breaths warm against your hair, but you waited. </p><p>“Your mind starts to wander when it’s so quiet, starts to hear things that aren’t there. Pope’s breaths started to sound like footfalls in the dark, and every time Benny shifted I could have sworn it was someone scrambling across the rocks. Redfly was the only one who was truly silent up there with us.”</p><p>You knew by now that Redfly was the friend he’d lost, Tom, though Frankie had refused to tell you how. His picture, along with Benny, Santiago, Will, and Frankie, rested on the mantle over the fireplace, all of them fresh faced and dressed in dark green fatigues. It was the only thing in Frankie’s apartment that never seemed to move, always in the same spot of honor. Tom’s daughter, Tess, had been one of the few to receive a Christmas card from him back in December, Frankie’s messy handwriting scribbled beneath the picture you’d chosen of the two of you. You’d glanced at the message as you’d shoved the card into an envelope to join the other, more numerous cards, from your own list. </p><p>
  <em> Hope you and your mom are doing well. Can’t wait for your graduation. Love, Uncle Fish </em>
</p><p>There was a pang in your chest as he continued speaking. “At some point I started hoping he’d say something. Something stupid like ‘why’d you assholes wrap me up like this’ or even just ‘man it’s cold out here.’ Finally, I started waiting for his voice in the dark. ‘It’s okay, Fish. It’s not your fault.’”</p><p>His voice catches on the last word, and your hand gently tightens in the t-shirt covering his chest. His hand not wrapped around your shoulders covers yours, and Frankie draws you closer against him. </p><p>“I kept looking up at the stars, wondering if he was out there somewhere, if he was watching us. Or if he was just gone, swallowed up into that darkness. I felt so small, and it was the first time it scared me. For so long I’d thought of myself and what I did as such a small part of history, nothing compared to what had happened and what was to come. But—“</p><p>He sucked in a breath, fighting back the sob you could hear hiding at the back of his throat, and you pressed a kiss to his chest gently. </p><p>“But he was gone. Because of what I’d done, or the decisions I’d made, T— Redfly was gone. I wasn’t small, I was big enough to stamp out a good man’s life.”</p><p>Frankie’s breaths were shaky, his eyes still trained on the sky, but as you lifted your head slowly you could see tears at the corners. You pressed another gentle kiss to the stubble-covered edge of his jaw, and he shivered as he tried to pull in another breath. Silence stretched out between you, and while you weren’t sure if what Frankie wanted was your voice in the darkness, your heart ached as his words echoed in your ears. </p><p>“It wasn’t your fault, Frankie. Whatever decisions you made or actions you took, Tom did the same. You're no more responsible for his death than you are for the sun rising each morning.”</p><p>As your last word faded into the quiet he finally let out a sob, his body beginning to shake with tears. You pulled him tighter against you, draping a leg over his and against his hip, as you tried to shelter him, protecting him from the anguish he felt. His arm tightened around your shoulders again, and his hand left yours to cup your cheek. You felt his face tip down until it pressed into your hair, the warm wetness of his tears landing on the crown of your head. You let him shake against you, rubbing her thumb gently against his chest, where your hand fisted in his shirt, and you rose and fell with his breathing. You wanted to comfort him but you didn’t know what to say, your words turning into a whispered litany. </p><p>“It’s okay, baby. I’m right here.”</p><p>There was nothing but the stars and Frankie’s quiet cries for a long time. You couldn’t help wondering how long he’d kept this to himself, how long he’d swallowed down his guilt and grief, thinking he deserved the poison that ran through his veins. You had tried to imagine him before, hardened, with a gun in his hand, but it never fit the picture of the man in front of you. Frankie was kind and patient, quiet and unassuming. He made you feel safer than you had in a long time, but you didn’t take his strength as a given. You knew it came at a price. As his cries grew less frequent you wondered if Frankie felt it was a fair trade. </p><p>Frankie’s breathing finally grew more even, and your hand left his chest to cover the hand still resting on your cheek. You lifted your head gently, giving time for him to lean back, until you could glance up into his eyes. They were focused back on the stars, still dampened but glassier, as if he wasn’t truly seeing the sky up above him. You kissed his jaw again gently, mouthing over the soft skin of his collarbone, and Frankie shivered beneath you. You felt like you should say something, that you should assure him that he was still him, and you were still you, even in the wake of his confession, but it felt cheap somehow. Like it would ruin the quiet moment that settled around you. </p><p>Finally he glanced down, his eyes meeting yours, and there was still a sadness behind them that tugged at your heart. Slowly he smiled, not as brightly as you’d come to expect, but enough to release the tension in your shoulders. He tipped his chin down, as his hand angled your face up, and his lips met yours with the lightest pressure. You hummed against him quietly and the kiss deepened, his hand still gentle on your cheek. You could feel all the need and want in that kiss, how grateful he was to have you there, to have seen this part of him no one else could see. You felt dizzy with it, a warmth blooming in your chest, and your hand tightened in his t-shirt. </p><p>“Let’s go home.” His lips brushed yours as he whispered, and you nodded gently against his hand. </p><p>When you’re back in the cab of the truck you reach for his hand, fitting it between your own and drawing it into your lap. The sky grows steadily lighter as you drive, the surroundings becoming more and more familiar to you, until you’re turning on to your own street, the house only a few yards up. It’s quiet inside, exactly as you left it, the cheap fan still doing its best in the corner of the bedroom. You and Frankie strip quietly, discarding your clothes on the bedroom floor where they fall, before crawling back between the thin sheets. Frankie lets you curl up against his back, pulling him tight to your chest, as you bury your face between his shoulder blades, waiting for that small sigh that warms your heart in your chest.</p><p>Even as the room slowly starts to fill with light, soft fingers touching everything the darkness had hidden only a few hours before, you and Frankie sleep. </p>
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